The weekend approached and I had made very little progress with either Eleanor or the boys. I had been into the hospital with Oliver to see Harold and there was no change. Still, I talked to him about his family, telling him how much they missed him and that they prayed for him every day. I had no idea whether they did or didn’t pray, but it was something to say to him.
I wanted to do something with the boys at the weekend, but options seemed limited. I knew they were interested in Ice Hockey, but the season didn’t start until October. There was a Young Stars tournament, but that was a five hour drive away. I couldn’t find anything that might interest them. And then I thought: would they like to go to the beach? Did they like swimming? Would they want to go swimming in their current state? I put it to Oliver. He thought it was a good idea. We could take a Frisbee and have a burger on the beach. We wouldn’t stay out long but it would get them out of the house. Eleanor still stayed in her bed most of the day and we felt she wouldn’t want to come. We were right about that.
The boys remained sullen throughout the day. They refused to play Frisbee or anything else. They only perked up when we went for the burgers. Maybe I was cruel, but I made them each ask for their own burger, and although I gave them the money, I made them pay for it as well. They had enough money to buy an ice cream each. Despite their quietness, I regarded it as another small success. They had at least spoken to other people. They went to see their mother when they returned but I had no idea what was said.
For the Sunday meal, I cooked a venison casserole and made a blueberry cheesecake. It seemed I had found something else they liked. Even Eleanor seemed to enjoy her meal.
The next day, I again washed her hair and changed her nightwear. When I went into her that evening she looked at me as if she wanted to say something. I sat with her for a few minutes before she blurted out: “Why?” I wasn’t sure what she was asking. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice trailing away. How was I to answer this? I had come because I was concerned about her brother. I had sensed he needed assistance. And, I hoped he would come to love me, if I was here to help him. But I couldn’t tell her that. And my reasons had changed since I’d arrived. It was clear to me that the best way I could help Oliver was to relieve him of the direct responsibility of looking after his sister and nephews.
“I want to help,” I said, simply and honestly. “You’ve had an horrendous experience. I cannot begin to imagine what you feel; or how you can cope with recent events.” There was no response, just tears welling in her eyes. “Would you like me to bring you a drink of anything?”
“Bacardi,” she mouthed as she fought the tears. I fetched a bottle of Bacardi, a bottle of cola and two glasses. We drank together; just a single glass and then she settled down to sleep. I told Oliver I was overjoyed that at last she had spoken to me of her own volition and not in response to a question.
That evening, we sat in companionable silence. Eventually, he decided to go to bed. For the first time since I’d arrived, he kissed me on the cheek as he left me. He turned at the door and simply said: “Thank you.” I slept well that night.
Slowly, Eleanor began to talk to me. She began to dress in the morning and by the Friday of my second week she felt up to coming shopping with us. Oliver was amazed at the progress she had made. I was just pleased.
With the change in their mother, the boys began to recover some of their sparkle. That evening after our shopping expedition with their mother, Chuck was still embarrassed as he talked to me, but he suddenly stopped eating and said: “Why are you called Rusty? You don’t have red hair.”
“When I was about four,” I began, “I liked to show off. I would sing a song called “You don’t have to say you love me. It was a song made famous by a lady called Dusty Springfield, but I couldn’t say her name properly. I said she was called Rusty Sinfield. I’ve been called Rusty ever since.”
“Do you still sing it?” Chuck asked. I said I hadn’t sung it for a very long time. “Will you sing it for us?” Chuck then asked. I looked round the table. Everyone seemed to be willing me to sing. So I did. I stumbled over some of the words but no one seemed to mind.
“You’ve got a lovely voice,” Eleanor said. “In fact, you’re a very lovely person.”
I was embarrassed. I tried not to look at any one person. I didn’t know what to say. I realized we had made a significant breakthrough and I needed to capitalize on it while I could.
“What do you say we go and visit Harold tomorrow?” I suggested. I waited for the objections but there were none. Just total silence. Then Eleanor spoke.
“Chuck, Frank, would you like to go and see daddy?”
“Will Rusty come too?” Frank asked. I assured him I would, if they wanted me to. Both boys did. Oliver tried to make them realise there hadn’t been any change in his condition, but that their daddy would love to have his boys near him. Even if he couldn’t see them, he might be able to hear them. And that might help make him better.